CHAPTER I.
"Dick, how many are twenty-seven and eight?"
The girl looked up, with narrow eyes and puckered brow, from the butcher's book, which she was laboriously "checking," at the boy who leaned back on the window seat picking out a tune on a banjo.
"Thirty-nine," he replied lazily but promptly, without ceasing to peck, peck at the strings.
She nodded her thanks, and traveled slowly up the column, counting with the end of her pencil and...
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